Defeated
Title: Defeated
Chapter: Drabble
Characters/Pairings: Daniels, Henderson/Burns
Spoilers/Warning: Slash
Summary: A short conversation between Daniels and Henderson after they've returned from Hamunaptra.
Disclaimer: Not authorized, prepared, approved, licensed, or endorsed by Universal Studios. All logos, trademarks, names, characters, and related indicia are the property of Universal Studios and/or their respective owners. I do not claim any affiliation with those who own The Mummy and would like to make it clear that no copyright infringement is intended in the publication of this story
Author's Note: This is my first foray into The Mummy fandom and I haven't written slash in years. Seriously, I have no idea where this came from.
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“Why aren’t you more upset?”
Henderson looks up from his glass of bourbon, annoyed at Daniels sudden appearance beside him and subsequent question, and glares up at his friend. “Pardon?”
“Burns,” Daniels clarifies unnecessarily. “He’s your…”
Henderson’s eyebrows narrow as Daniels trails off uncertainly. “He’s my what?” He growls dangerously.
“Friend,” Daniels hisses, his eyes darting around at the other men scattered about the Egyptian bar. “He’s your friend and you don’t even seem to care about what happened to him. Look at you.” Daniels grimaces in disgust at the empty glasses littering the bartop. “You’re pathetic.”
Henderson contemplates laying Daniels out for a few hazy seconds but the bourbon hasn’t quite done its job properly and that teeny, tiny part of him that’s still sober just won’t let him take a swing, even though the drunken part of him really, really wants to. Instead of decking his friend, he leans back in his chair and hunches his shoulders in defeat. What’s the point in arguing? Daniels is probably right anyway; he usually is. “Your point?”
“My point is…” Daniels trails off again. He hadn't really planned to get to this stage in the conversation. Usually Henderson would have shot off at the mouth or hit him already and the conversation would have been over by now. With a sigh, Daniels pulls out the chair next to Henderson and slumps into it. He gestures to the bartender for a drink and says softly, “We gotta get him out of here.”
“Yeah,” Henderson agrees softly, thoughtful. He reaches out for the glass of bourbon, his fingertips hovering over the rim hesitantly for a moment, and then plucks the glass from the table and swallows the contents all at once. “Yeah,” he repeats as he slides off the barstool. “I’ll go check on the boat schedule.”
Chapter: Drabble
Characters/Pairings: Daniels, Henderson/Burns
Spoilers/Warning: Slash
Summary: A short conversation between Daniels and Henderson after they've returned from Hamunaptra.
Disclaimer: Not authorized, prepared, approved, licensed, or endorsed by Universal Studios. All logos, trademarks, names, characters, and related indicia are the property of Universal Studios and/or their respective owners. I do not claim any affiliation with those who own The Mummy and would like to make it clear that no copyright infringement is intended in the publication of this story
Author's Note: This is my first foray into The Mummy fandom and I haven't written slash in years. Seriously, I have no idea where this came from.
______________________
“Why aren’t you more upset?”
Henderson looks up from his glass of bourbon, annoyed at Daniels sudden appearance beside him and subsequent question, and glares up at his friend. “Pardon?”
“Burns,” Daniels clarifies unnecessarily. “He’s your…”
Henderson’s eyebrows narrow as Daniels trails off uncertainly. “He’s my what?” He growls dangerously.
“Friend,” Daniels hisses, his eyes darting around at the other men scattered about the Egyptian bar. “He’s your friend and you don’t even seem to care about what happened to him. Look at you.” Daniels grimaces in disgust at the empty glasses littering the bartop. “You’re pathetic.”
Henderson contemplates laying Daniels out for a few hazy seconds but the bourbon hasn’t quite done its job properly and that teeny, tiny part of him that’s still sober just won’t let him take a swing, even though the drunken part of him really, really wants to. Instead of decking his friend, he leans back in his chair and hunches his shoulders in defeat. What’s the point in arguing? Daniels is probably right anyway; he usually is. “Your point?”
“My point is…” Daniels trails off again. He hadn't really planned to get to this stage in the conversation. Usually Henderson would have shot off at the mouth or hit him already and the conversation would have been over by now. With a sigh, Daniels pulls out the chair next to Henderson and slumps into it. He gestures to the bartender for a drink and says softly, “We gotta get him out of here.”
“Yeah,” Henderson agrees softly, thoughtful. He reaches out for the glass of bourbon, his fingertips hovering over the rim hesitantly for a moment, and then plucks the glass from the table and swallows the contents all at once. “Yeah,” he repeats as he slides off the barstool. “I’ll go check on the boat schedule.”